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ALPHABETICAL LIST OF 

Ames’ Edition of Plays. 

FIFTEEN CENTS EACH UNLESS OTHERWISE MARKED. 


NO. M 

DRAMAS. 

2 A Desperate Game.3 

I 164 After Ten Years. 7 

39 A Life’s Revenge. 7 

43 Arrah de Baugh. 7 

100 Aurora Eloyd. 7 

125 Auld Robin Gray 25c.13 

89 Beauty of Lyons.1.If 

113 Bill Detrick. 6 

14 Brigands of Calabria. 6 

160 Conn; or Love’s Victory.11 

161 Dora. 5 

60 Driven to the Wall.10 

152 Driven from Home. 7 

173 East Lynne. 7 

143 Emigrant’s Daughter.. 8 

176 Factory Girl.. 6 

162 Fielding Manor. 9 

117 Hal Hazard, 25c. 8 

207 Heroic Dutchman of ’76. 8 

52 Henry Granden.11 

76 How He Did It.3 

141 Hidden Treasures. 4 

26 Hunter of the Alps. 9 

191 Hicl-len Hand.10 

194 Lights and Shadows of the 

Great Rebellion 25 cts..10 

3 Lady of Lyons.12 

9 Lady Audley’s Secret. 6 

46 Man and Wife.12 

211 Midnight Mistake... 6 

163 Miriam’s Crime. 5 

91 Michael Erie. 8 

36 Miller of Derwent Water. 5 

34 Mistletoe Bough. 7 

81 Oid Phil’s Birthday. 5 

85 Outcast’s Wife.12 

83 Ou on the World. 5 

196 0 ith Bound.... 5 

29 Painter of Ghent. 5 

18 Poac ier’s Doom.8 

110 Reverses.12 

45 Rock Allen. 5 

79 Spy of Atlanta, 25 cts.14 

144 Thekla. 6 

67 The False Fr end. 6 

97 The Fatal Blow. 7 

119 The Forty-Niners...10 

93 The Gentleman in Black. 9 

112 The New Magdalen.8 

71 The Reward < f Crime.5 

i 105 Through Snow and Sunshine. 6 

7 The Vow of the Ornnni. 8 

! 201 Ticket of Leave Man. 9 

193 Toodles. 6 

200 Uncle Toms Cabin.15 

121 Will-o’-the-Wisp. 9 

41 Won at Last.7 

192 Zion. 7 


TEMPERANCE PLAYS. 

73 At Last. 7 

| 75 Adrift.... 6 

| 187 Aunt Dinah’s Pledge.7 


p 


2 

5 

5 

5 
3 

3 
2 

4 
1 
3 
2 

3 

4 

6 
3 
3 
6 
3 

3 
8 

2 

‘> 

4 
6 

5 

5 
4 
7 
2 
o 

3 

2 . 

3 

2 

3 

4 
3 
2 
3 

6 
3 


1 

1 

4 

4 

3 

3 

4 
1 

3 
2 
7 

4 

3 

4 


1 

4 

3 


NO. 


M 

F | 

202 

Drunkard [The]. 

Drunkard’s Warning. 

..13 

5 

185 

.. 6 

3 

5 1 

189 

Drunkard’s D-om. 

..15 

181 

Fifteen Years of a Drunk- 




ard’s Life. 

..10 

4 

183 

Fruit < of the Wine Cup. 

.. 6 

4 

104 

Lost.. 


2 

116 

Our Awful Aunt. 

... 4 

4 

53 

Out in the Streets..'. 

.. 6 

4 i 

51 

Rescued. 

... 5 

3 

59 

Saved . 

.. 2 

3 

102 

Turn of the Tide. 

.. 7 

4 

63 

Three Glasses a Dav. 


2 

62 

Ten Nights in Bar-Room.... 

.. 7 

3 1 

58 

Wrecked . 

COMEDIES. 

.. 9 

3 

168 

A Pleasure Trip. 

.. 7 

3 

136 

A Legal Holiday. 


o 

*) i 

124 

An Afflicted Family. 

... 7 

5 

178 

Caste. 


3 

199 

Home. 

.. 4 

3 

174 

Love’s Labor Not Lost. 

.. 3 

3 

149 

New Years in N, Y . 


6 

37 

Not So Bad After All . 

... 6 

5 

126 

Our Daughters . 

.1 8 

6 

114 

Passions . 

The Biter Bit. 

TRAGEDIES. 


4 ! 

87 


2 1 


16 The Serf. 6 3 


FARCES AND COMEDIETTAS. 


129 

Aar-u-sg-oos. 

2 

1 

132 

Actor and Servant....;. 

2 

0 

12 

A Capital Match. 

3 

9 

166 

A Texan Mother-in-Law. 

4 

2 

30 

A Day Well Spent. 

7 

5 

169 

A Regular Fix. 

5 

4 

80 

Alarmingly Suspicious. 

4 

3 

78 

An Awful Criminal. 

o 

OJ 

65 

An Unwelcome Return. 

3 

I ! 

31 

A Pet of the Public. 

4 

2 

21 

A Romantic Attachment. 

3 

3 1 

123 

A Thrilling Item. 

3 

i 

20 

A T cket of Leave. 

3 

‘2 1 

175 

Betsey Baker. 

2 

2 

8 

Better Half. 

5 

2 | 

86 

Black vs White. 

4 

2 ! 

22 

Captain Smith. 

3 

3 

84 

Cheek Will Win. 

3 

0 

49 

Der Two Surprises. 

1 

1 

72 

Deuce is in Him. 

5 

l ! 

19 

Did I Dream it. 

4 

3 

42 

Domestic Felicity. 

1 

1 

188 

Dutch Prize Fighter. 

o 

O 

0 

148 

Eh? What Did You Say. 

O 

1 

154 

Fun in a Post office. 

4 

2 

184 

Family Discipline. 

1 

0 

209 

Goose with the Golden Eggs. 

5 

3 

13 

Give Me My Wife. 

3 

3 

66 

Hans, the Dutch J.P. 

3 

1 

116 

Hash. 

4 

2 

120 

11. M. S. Plum. 

1 

1 


(Un.: 




























































































































































MISTAKE, 


A MIDNIGHT 

t 

a melodrama; 


IN FOUR ACTS, 

-BY- 

77 ’ /... 

A. J. MUNSDN. 


0 



- TO WHICH IS ADDED - 


A DESCRIPTION OF THE COSTUMES—CAST OF THE CHARACTERS- 
ENTRANCES AND EXITS—RELATIVE POSITIONS OF THE 
PERFORMERS ON THE STAGE, AND THE WHOLE 
OF THE STAGE BUSINESS. 



Entered according to act of Congress in the year 1886, by 
A. D. AMES, 

in the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, 



-CLYDE, OHIO!- 

A. D. AMES, PUBLISHER 












\ 


A MIDNIGHT MISTAKE,' 

( ^ S ’ I 

~WM 

* ' ~”"V 

CHARACTERS. 

. 

JOHN SIMON. A broker ancl manufacturer 

HARRY SLOAN. A villain’s victim 

HERBERT HONEYTON. A book-keeper 

PHILIP DARBEEN. A detective 

JOSE DeLEON. A Spaniard 

PETER. Darkey, Jack of all trades 

> EYALENA SLOAN. Sloan’s daughter 

^ JULIA HONEYTON. Herbert’s sister 

‘-"O' 




COSTUMES—MODERN. 














A Min NIGHT MISTAKE. 

ACT I. 

SCENE I.— Broker's Office—desk or table up c., with books and writ¬ 
ing material on it—necessary chairs—other office properties attainable 

— Herbert discovered at desk writing * Music at rise of curtain f 

which continues until Simon comes on. 

Enter Simon, l. 2 e. 

Simon. Herbert, has Harry Sloan called during my absence? 

Herbert. He has not, sir. 

Sim. Then you may lay aside your work for to-day, as I shall not 
need you this evening. 

Her. I am thankful for the liberty, Mr. Simon, as I have an en¬ 
gagement. 

Sim. (sits) With some charmer of the gentler sex, I presume. 
Am I not right ? 

Her. You certainly are. And as we have drifted upon this sub¬ 
ject, I wish to ask for an increase of salary, as I intend taking upon 
myself the responsibilities of matrimony. 

Sim. Indeed! 

Her. Yes. My love has been reciprocated by the object of my 
admiration, so all that prevents our immediate union is an increase 
in my salary. 

Sim. Well, Herbert, I think I can obviate your difficulty. Busi¬ 
ness has been brisk of late. But speaking of love, do you really be¬ 
lieve in the existance of such an element as love ? 

Her. (rising ) Believe in love ? Love, the grandest passion with 
which mankind is endowed—the foundation of our existence, and the 
supporting pillar of civilization ? Yes ! who can but believe it! 

Sim. My question may seem strange to you, but I have come to 
look upon love as a farce or a tantalizing, presumptive yoke to be 
taken upon oneself while in the pursuit of certain ends, and when 
these are gained to be cast aside like a worn out glove. 

Her. Then you have never experienced love—never been under 
its magic intluence. 

Sim. If love be a passion, such as you will have it, I have not, 
nor do I desire to. 

Her. Then I suppose you will leave your alloted share to me. 
But I must go. You will consider the subject of which I spoke? 

Sim. I have already—your salary shall be doubled. 

Her. Thanks, and a pleasant evening to you, sir. 

(takes hat and exits c. 

Sim . (looks at his watch — rising) Ten minutes past six, and Sloan 



A MIDNIGHT MISTAKE. 


4 

not here! What can detain him? He promised to be here at five 
o’clock, and he has kept me waiting more than an hour. Can it be 
possible that he is trying to evade me? If so —(looks off l.) Ah, 
here he comes! 

• Enter Sloan, l. 2 e. 

Sloan, old boy, do you know that by your non-appearance at the ap¬ 
pointed hour I was beginning to question your promptness. (sets 
chairs —both sit) 

Sloun. I beg pardon for my tardiness, on the grounds that your 
business at the mills detained me. But since I am here now, dispose 
of whatever business you may have with me, that I may depart for 
home. 

Sim. Well, I suppose you remember the contract existing be¬ 
tween us, concerning Evalena, that when she should come of suffici¬ 
ent age she should become my wife? I have therefore requested 
you to call here to inform you that I consider the time at hand, 
when I, with propriety in the sight of society, can take her as my 
wife. 

Sloan. I well remember that there was an agreement between us, 
but I have thought for many years that it was but an ephemeral 
fancy of yours, and that you had long since blotted it from memory. 

Sim. Sloan, you mistake the nature of my character. Do you 
suppose I could blot from memory an object which is to be the 
crowning glory to my success? No! It is to-day, and has been all 
these years, as firmly imbedded in my memory as if the contract was 
made bufryesterday. 

Sloan. And you are determined to sacrificing Evalena in order to 
obtain this crowning glory? 

Sim. I am determined upon making Evalena my wife, and to ex¬ 
tend to her an honorable position in the world. And I suppose, ac¬ 
cording ro another clause in our agreement, you have prepared her 
for the event ? 

Sloan. No, I have not. 

Sim. What! Did I not advise you time after time to constantly 
keep this matter before her as the paramount object of her life? 
And now I find that you, who are living at my mercy only, have 
disobejmd my orders. 

Sloan. But, my dear Simon, she has lived so happily of late 
years, and enjoyed life so well, that I could not possibly mar her 
happiness by even alluding to a subject that would be a frightful 
specter to her, much less keep it constantly before her. 

Sim. Sir! what do you mean by a “frightful specter?” 

Sloan. I mean that were I to tell her that I desired her to marry 
you it would be a frightful specter to her, from which she would 
start back in horror. 

Sim. Harry Sloan, I advise you to be more prudent in your ex¬ 
pressions, and to comply with my desires ! 

Sloan. But if she should dote upon another? 

Sim. That other must be set to one side out of the way. But I 
hope that a man in your position in life, or rather between life and 

death, has not allowed another to pay attentions to Evalena_the 

straw for your rescue. 

Sloan. Alas, it is the cnse. 


5 


A MIDNIGHT MISTAKE . 

Sim. And who is the plumed knight that has crossed my path, 
and thwarts my purpose ? 

Sloan. Herbert Honey ton. 

Sim. What! my book-keeper? 

Sloan. The same. For some time they have been in each other’s 
company, and I doubt not bnt that an engagement exists between 
them. Even this evening he waits upon her. It would be a pity to 
separate them. 

Sim. Pit) r be hanged ! Do you suppose I will be thwarted in my 
purpose by my book-keeper? By a simpleton like Herbert Honeyton, 
who is nothing else than a beggar, subsisting on what I allow him? 
Xo! I hold a mortgage on his home that has been due over two 
years; to-morrow I shall enter proceedings for its foreclosure, and 
discharge him from my employ—he will then be a homeless beggar. 
I think that will cool their love. And, Harry Sloan, as you value 
your honor and life—as you value the honor of your family, I charge 
you to use your influence, so that my plan, as to making Evalena 
my wife, may be executed. And, remember, that on the day she be¬ 
comes my wife I will give you a check for ten thousand dollars—that 
day to come one week from to-day. But should you not succeed, or 
should you use yoitr hifluence to the contrary, I'will deliver you, 
and the evidence against you in my possession, to the authorities, 
and let them settle w th you. 

Sloan. John Simon, you are an unscrupulous, base villain, to 
thus take advantage of me time after time because you have me in 
your power. For eighteen years you have, as you claim, held my 
life in your hands, and drove me to do your base bidding. I need 
no* tell 3 r ou what a life these eighteen years nave bee.i to me. The 
misery and anguish I have endured is sufficient atonement for any 
crime I mav have committed, be it ever so foul. I have done your 
bidding, ami you have profitted in dollars and cents, but the task 
ybU now set for me —10 tear from a young girl’s bosom her fondest 
hopes—I cannot,'nor v ill not perform. I can no longer comply with 
your bate desires, where human happiness is at stake. When 1 com¬ 
mitted the act for which you have me in your power, 1 done so only 
in fear of the foul justice you were threatening to bring me to. I 
would rather suffer a hundred deaths than to live another eighteen 
years like the past. So if you intend sacrificing me to your whims, 
do so now—I am ready. ( rises and paces stage) 

Sim. (Using) Perhaps not quite so read 3 ^ as you presume. But 
can you not plead my case to Evalena? Perhaps she will relent. 
(aside) 1 must proceed carefully. 

Sloan. Yes, I can, and will ; but I will not guarantee you the 
desired results, (looking off, l.) But here comes Evalena now, evi¬ 
dently in search of me. You can plead your own case, and if I can 
Assist you I will. 


Enter Evalena, l. 2 e. 

Evalena. Good evening, Mr. Simon. Papa, I became frightened 
at your absence beyond the usual hour,and thought you might have 
met with some accident at the mills, so 1 came to look for you, and 
how fortunate that I should find you so soon, and realize that my 
apprehensions were without foundation. 

Sloan. Business always before pleasure, my dear. 


6 


A MIDNIGHT MISTAKE . 


Sim. Miss Sloan, it perhaps becomes me to beg pardon for being 
at least indirectly the cause of your alarm, as I detained Mr. Sloan 
for an interview; and as you are deeply connected with the same, it 
is but just that you are made acqainted with its import. Miss Sloan, 
it is unnecessary for me to tell you that our acquaintance from your 
childhood uj5, has led me to admire you with such affection as a 
zealous lover only ca*n. I have riches beyond my desires, and can 
give you a pleasant home with all possible luxuries. I have just 
spoken to Mr. Sloan, and gained his consent, and I now await your 
answer—will you give the crowning point to uiy happiness by be¬ 
coming my wife ? 

Evalena. Mr. Simon, your offer is as frank as it is unexpected, 
and I will give you a frank answer in return. I can never learn to 
love you with that affection which alone leads to happiness in wed¬ 
ded life—therefore I must answer no. 

Sim. And will you not take your father’s desires on this question 
into consideration ? 

Evalena. I do not think his desires in this case are intrinsically in 
accordance with yours, Mr. Simon. Are they, father? 

Sloan. If your heart could prompt you to accept Mr. Simon, they 
would be. 

Evalena. And as my heart does not prompt me, it must be as I 
have said—no! 

Sim. Miss Sloan, I know the case from beginning to end. Her¬ 
bert Honey ton is without employment and a home; I shall discharge 
him at once, and to-morrow a mortgage on his house for several 
thousand dollars, will be protested and foreclosed. So you should 
consider well before you refuse my offer. 

Evalena. Let Herbert Honeyton be a homeless beggar, he never¬ 
theless will remain an honorable man. And I doubt not*but that you 
are the cause of his misfortunes. If these expressions are to be taken 
as evidence of your love, I can but loathe you instead of respecting 
you. You till have my answer, no! 

Sim. Evalena, as you love and respect your father, and desire 
his welfare, I ask you to change your answer. 

Evalena. Father! My father? What do you mean, sir? 

Sim. I mean that it depends on your answer to my proposal 
whether your father goes to the gallows. (Evalena starts with sur¬ 
prise and fear ) 

Sloan. (ivrithing ) Oh, Simon, do not be so cruel! 

Sim. I am not cruel. But, Miss Sloan, it is nevertheless a fact 
that I have proof and evidence in my possession, which, if brought 
to light, would condemn your father to death. On one condition 
will I surrender these documents, and that is that you become my 
wife—otherwise he is doomed. 

Evalena. {throwing arms about Slo an’s neck) Oh, father! father! 
can this be true ? Can it be possible ? Tell me it is false! 

Sloan. Alas, poor child, it is true that he has me in his power 
that he has such proofs against me. But doubt not my innocence* 
although circumstances are against me, 

Evalena. ( releasing him) And must I believe this terrible con¬ 
fession? But, father, with what crime are you charged? Can vour 
innocence not be proven ? * 3 

Sloan. I cannot tell you now of the nature of the cliaro-e prefer¬ 
red against me, and my innocence, which I cannot pro"ve. You 


A MIDNIGHT MISTAKE. 


7 


knust wait with me for the righteous verdict which will sooner or 
later come. But you shall not sacrifice your happiness to save my 
miserable life. 

Evalena. (aside) Oh, Heavens! how dark my former bright 
path now seems! Must I accept him?—Yes! (aloud) Father, for 
your sake I will accept him. 

Sim. (triumphantly) And is that your final answer, Miss Sloan? 

Evalena. ( deliberately ) For the sake of saving one whom I love 
better than my life, I answer yes. I give you my hand (extends 
hand to Simon) and the enmity of my heart. 

Sim. (triumphantly) Evalena, you will never regret the step you 
have just taken; and as for the enmity of your heart, you will 
change that in time. 

Evalena. My feelings towards you will never change. But, fath¬ 
er, I must be alone with my thoughts—come with me home. 

Sloan. Yes, child. (goes up. Evalena exits, l. 2*e. 

Sim. Sloan, stay a moment. (Sloan returns) Do you suppose 
she will keep her promise just made to me? 

Sloan. Even though she will, I will not! Evalena shall never be 
the bride of a base villain as long as I can prevent it, come what will. 
You hear, John Simon, never! Herbert Honey ton is her choice, and 
Herbert it shall be, unless you take my life. 

Sim. (aside) Can it be possible! Yes! Ah, I have it. (aloud) 
I heed not your opposition! Begone! Evalena shall be mine, and 
if you interfere, you shall be made to feel the weighty arm of the 
law! Go your way. (Sloan exits, l. 2 e.) I cannot understand 
that fellow. I have him in my power, yet I dislike his severe ob¬ 
jection to my suit. If that simpleton, Herbert, was out of the way, 
I would be safe. Money is powerful—I will sec Jose DeLeon. I 
have sworn to marry this girl, and I will do so at all hazards. Here 
comes that nigger—just in time to do an errand for me. 

Enter Peter, l. 2 e. 

Ah! philosopher of the streets, how fares it with thee to-day? 

Peter. ( angrily) Say, boss, Fse no grasshopper, I’se a ’spectful 
gemmen of color, I is! 

Sim. You misunderstand me, Peter; I said philosopher. 

Peter. Oh, yeah! I understand—a pail-slop-o-ser. Dat is to say, a 
man what carries slop around to people in a pail. Yeah! dat am all 
right, boss—I’m one of’em! 

Sim. Correct, Peter. But do you know where Jose DeLeon, the 
Spaniard, is at present? 

Peter. Oh, yes ! I just saw' him ober at de corner saloon. 

Sim. Go and tell him to come to my office immediately. (Peter 
goes up stage and stands, thinking) Why don’t you go? 

Peter. Well, you see, boss, I’se sometimes troubled Avid a dry 
throat, and I feel it a cornin’ on now, so I’se afraid by the time I get 
thar I’ll be choked and*can’t say nuffin’. You haven’t such a thing 
as a quarter about you, have you? 

Sim. Ah, Peter, you’re a sharp one. (hands coin) Now go. 

Peter, (going) Here’s ter yer health, boss. (exit, l. 2 E. 

Sim. Herbert Honeyton must be got out of my wTiy. 1 cannot 
afford to lose Evalena and tlie legacy of millions that will be hers. 
It will be a high game to play, but I have handled high cards before. 




8 


A MIDNIGHT MISTAKE . 


Enter Julia, l. 2 e., in traveling costume. 

{aside—fiendishly) The devil! 

Julia. Oh, dear John, I am so glad I found you. (exchange greet¬ 
ings according to taste of audience.—country or city ) 

Sim. Julia, dear, what brings you tonne city so unexpectedl}' ? 

Julia. Philip Darbeen, the detective, has been engaged by my 
brother to hunt me and the man of my choice—therefore, heeding 
your advice to keep our union a secret until you should be ready to 
have it made public, 1 have come to learn what you would have me 


do. 


Sim. ( excitedly ) Do you mean to say Philip Darbeen is actually 

on our trail ? 

Julia. Yes, dear. He has shadowed me for some time, and yes¬ 
terday he called at the hotel and made several enquiries of the clerk 


concerning me. 

Sim. Do you know whether he suspects me as your husband? 

Julia. Prom what I have learned 1 think not. 

Sim. Well, my dear, I am expecting a man here on business 
soon, so you had better go the hotel to avoid further discoveries. I 
will try to see you this evening, or in the morning, and we will then 
determine upon what course of action to take. He a good girl and 
keep quiet, and all will be well. 

Julia. 1 will, but come soon, for the suspense is terrible. 

(Exit, l. 2 e. 

Sim. If Philip Darbeen is on my trail I must proceed shrewdly, 
in order to outwit him. If I can lnury my union withEvalena, before 
any discoveries are made, I can defy the world and its detectives. It 
will be an easy matter to cast off Julia when the proper time comes; 
but I must send her away from the city or she may thwart my plans 
with Evalena. Confound it! this business is rather intricate. 


Enter Jose DeLeon, l. 2 e. 

DeL. Ah, senor, you called me? 

Sim. Yes, my dear DeLeon. Be seated. (places chairs at table 

_ both sit ) 1 have become entangled in a little difficulty, and need 

assistance. 

DeL. (thoughtfully) I understand—make known your trouble. 

Sim. You know Herbert Honey ton, my book-keeper? 

DeL. Yes, senor. 

Sim. He must die. Do you want the job? 

DeL. It’s a bad job. How much will you pay. 

Sim. State your figures, but be reasonable, as I have no money to 
throw away. 

DeL. How shall the deed be done? 

Sim. He has an engagement with Evalena Sloan to-night, and 
will undoubtedly return to his home at a late hour. Lay in wait for 
him on a back street, and work in silence. Should you fail in this 
way, go to his room; after which lire the building. But use no 
Weapon but the dagger. 

DeL. It is well. I will do it for five thousand dollars, part in 
hand, and the balance before two o’clock in the morning. 

Sim. Your figures are too high. Be moderate, 

DeL. Very well. Then I will go. ( rrising) 



9 


a Midnight mistake. 

Sim. (rising) Your price is set abominably liigh, but I will give 
it. Here is five hundred as a guarantee of good faith, and I will 
meet you at the west bridge, at two o’clock in the morning, with the 
balance, (hands roll of bills) 

DeL . Good. The deed shall be done. (Exit, l. 2 e. 

Sim. (fiendishly) Ah, Herbert Honey ton, your fate is sealed. 
Now to outwit Philip Darbeen, and Evalena and her legacy of mil¬ 
lions will be mine, (c.) 

(Closed in with street scene in 1st grooves , which is 

SCENE II.— Street. 

Enter Philip Darbeen, r.. 

Philip. I have had many intricate cases to unravel during my ex¬ 
perience as a detective, but for a simple one, none so mysterious as 
the present. It is said woman’s wit exceeds man’s wisdom, and, by 
Jove, I believe it. No sooner do I find a clew than it is again lost. 
Were it not for my love for Julia and Herbert’s friendship, I would 
drop this case in disgust. 

Enter Herbert, l. 

Herbert. Why, Philip, I thought you w r ere in Chicago? (shake 

hands) 

Philip. Yes, I was there, but you see I have returned. 

Her. (anxiously) And with what success ? 

Philip. I succeeded in ascertaining where your sister resided, but 
no sooner had I done so than she disappeared, and I am led to believe 
she is now in this city. 

Her. And you will continue the search? 

Philip. Yes; for I believe with you that she is in the hands of 
some villain—although, perhaps, a willing slave. It is our duty, 
therefore, to find her, and set her on the right path again. 

Her. And I hope you may be successful. Meanwhile report new 
developments in the case to me regularly. Good day. 

( crpsses , and exit R. 

Philip, (watching him off) At any rate he does not hope for suc¬ 
cess more than I do, for I am in love with the girl, yet 1 suppose it 
is a hopeless passion. (turns to l. 

Enter Peter, l. 

Peter, I am glad to find you. Did you ever do any detective work? 

Peter. Oh, yes; I detected a feller about your make-up, de Oder 
day, kissing de black-eyed milliner in de shop down de way here. 

Philip. Now, Peter! 

Peter. Why dat am nothing, boss, for I do that myself whenever 
. I git a chance, (smacks lips) But you look pretty well, boss. 

Philip. Well, Peter, I can not return the compliment. 

Peter. I think you can. 

Philip. How so? 

Peter. By telling as big a lie as I did! 

Philip. 1 take the hint. 

Peter. Say, do you know any skhin-nun-drums? 

Philip. Yes, a few. 


10 


A MIDNIGHT MISTAKE 

Deter. Den tell me why dey killed off all der dogs during the 
dog days last summer ? 

Philip. Did they kill them all, Peter? 

Peter. Yes, all of ’em 

Philip. Then how did they miss you? 

Peter, {a little confused) Ah! yeah! eh! You see dey spent all 
de time trying to find you ! 

Philip. And still they failed. Put I understand you attend Sun¬ 
day school regularly now. How do you get along there ? 

Peter. Very well, sah. 

Philip. What have you learned at the school? 

Peter. Hot much of anything; only de way de female teachers 
bang and frizz, and curl, and switch, and stack their hair, and make 
smashers on de good looking male teachers. And last Sunday I 
learned ’bout Soliermum, who had a million wives, or more. 

Philip. King Solomon, the wisest man known in history? 

Peter. Yes, Ole King Soliermum, de biggermist. But I don’t 
tink he was very wise though. 

Philip. And why, Peter ? 

Peter. Because yer see no wise man would think of having such 
a jamberee as a million wives around him. Ho-sar-ee ! A wise man 
would be content wid one wife, and if he could stand more racket he 
would start a dozen boiler shops or so, dat he could shut down when 
he didn’t feel well, or wanted to go to sleep. Ho-sar-ee ! Sollermun 
was no wise man! 

Philip. Yes he was, Peter. Do you remember the verdict he 
rendered when the two women claimed the same child? (Peter 
nods affirmingly) Well, that showed wisdom. 

Peter. Hang me’f it does! Why dats de most foolish piece of 
business I ever heard of. Did any sound person ever think of such 
a thing as to cut a chile in two, jes’ for ter settle a dispute? Ho- 
sar-ee ! Why, what would be de good of a half chile? Hone at all. 
I wouldn’t give a blown-out cigar st.ub for a million half chiles. 
And why? ’Cause dey’s no ’count, nohow. But if he’d left de 
chile alone I might have give him my chance at de bar in a general 
roundabout of free drinks for de house for it, an’ dat would be con¬ 
siderable, considering his family circumstances. 

Philip. Ah, Peter, you don’t see the point in question. You mis¬ 
take the- 

Peter. Oh, go long wid de point! I reckon I knows what I knows, 
and sees what I sees ! You can’t talk wid me when it comes to Sun¬ 
day school business, for I’se got dat down fine ! Why, jes’ look at it 
as it is. Whar a man like Sollermun, who’s got at least seven million 
chiles , a chile more or less is of no conserkense, ’speshly whar it will 
settle a dispute between two women who, I spose, belonged to de 
sewing circle for de benefit of de heathen. No-sar-ee! A chile in 
such a case is a mighty good investment I Course it’s different wid 
you, who’ll never have mor’n three or four dozen, but wid Soller- 
mun it was no konserkense. 

Philip. Peter, you are going too far in your assertions, in conse¬ 
quence I will admit the case in dispute in your favor. But will you 
assist me in a little job of detective work? 

Peter. I’ll take'a job of detectin’ if you’ll strike out de work 
clause. 





A MIDNIGHT MISTAKE. 11 

Philip. Very well. Do you know tbe lacly of whom this is a like¬ 
ness? (producing photo) 

Peter. (examing it) Oh, yas. She war to ole skin-flint Simon’s 
office widin de last hour. 

Philip. Are you sure? 

Peter. (indignant) Say, boss, when dis chile says a thing, that 
thing am said ! Fack ! You don’t mistook me for a pill-peddler, 
did you ? 

Philip. I believe you, Peter. Now, what I desire you to do, is 
to ascertain where this lady resides, and what business she transact¬ 
ed at Simon’s office, and report the same to me. I will pay you well 
for actual service. 

Peter. All right, boss, I’ll do her. 

•Philip. Then I will meet you here to-morrow evening for your 
report. Meanwhile, work shrewdly, (goes up) 

Peter. I’se your huckleberry, boss. (Philip exits , l.) Golly, 
I’se a detect! Wonder what my gal Sal will say now. Guess I’ll 
go and buy a can of black sardines and gib her, since fortune strikes 
this way. Wonder what comes next. (Exit, r. 


SCENE III.— Sloan’s Parlor—mountings to suit convenience of stage 

—center table r. c. Necessary chairs. Eyalena seated at table in 

deep thought. 

Evalena. Oh, Herbert! Herbert! if you only knew how sincerely 
I love you, and the motives that prompted me to forsake you, then 
—then you mignt forgive me. (rising) But I will be true to you, 
Herbert. When Simon comes for his bride he will find her the bride 
of death instead. Oh, Herbert! our wedding will be on the other 
side of the dark and mystical river, where fiends never enter to dis¬ 
turb the calm and placid waters. 

Enter Herbert, l. 

Evalena. (shrinks towards r., exhibiting fear and anguish) Oh, 
Herbert! 

Her. ( advancing , speaking quickly) Evalena, dear! why this state 
of alarm ? Do I enter so unexpectedly ? 

Evalena. No, no, Herbert! I cannot see you! I must not! Go! 

Her. My fair commander, before I comply with such orders I 
must know the reason for them. Come, Evalena, what has happen¬ 
ed that you receive me thus ? 

Evalena. Oh, Herbert, I have played you false, and must not see 
you hereafter. Henceforth we must be as strangers to each other. 

Her. Impossible! Impossible! What has shaken your faith in 
me, that you thus cast me oft’? 

Evalena. My faith in you is as firm as ever; but to-day I was 
compelled, for certain reasons, to promise to wed John Simon. Do 
not cpiestion me further, but leave me. 

Her. Do you mean to say you received an offer of marriage from 
John Simon, and accepted it? 

Evalena. Yes. But I did not accept willingly. On account of 
certain foul reasons I was forced to consent. 

Her. Foul reasons! I do not understand. Pray explain, for this 


A MIDNIGHT MISTAKE. 


12 

suspense is terrible to me. Come, Evalena, tell me all, for I cannot 
believe that you have conscientiously cast me oil tor John Simon. 

Evalena. I cannot tell you, Herbert—you must interview father 
tor these reasons. 

Her. Then call him immediately. 

Evalena . I will; but remember fate has separated us, and we 
must abide by its decree. 

Her. (forcibly) Fate be hanged ! In this case I will not abide by 
its decree, though a thousand’John Simons were against me. ( exit 
Evalena, k. j “Foul reasons!” What can the girl mean! Evi¬ 
dently this is another of John Simon’s plots. But this time I will 
follow him through it. 

Enter Sloan, r. # 

Sloan. Good day, Herbert. 

Her. Good day, sir. 

Sloan. Evalena said you desired to see me. ( both sit ) 

Her. Yes, I desire to make some inquiries concerning a case 
which interests me deeply. You are aware, Mr. Sloan, that for some 
time I have been waiting upon your daughter—that we were engag¬ 
ed to be married; to-night, however, when I called, she informed 
me that our proposed relationship must not be thought of in the fu¬ 
ture, as this afternoon she was forced, on account of certain foul 
reasons, to accept John Simon. For an explanation of these reasons 
she directed me to you. You now know why I desired an interview. 

Sloan. Herbert, this is an intricate and mysterious affair, and 
should not be transmitted to any one; but if you will promise to use 
the information with proper di-•-return I will explain it to you. 

Her. You can rest assured as to that, Mr. Sloan. 

Sloan. Well, the case cannot be made worse. I have every con¬ 
fidence in you. The facts are that John Simon claims that I was 
connected with a Baltimore tragedy, which oceured many years ago, 
and that he has proofs in his possession, which if revealed, .would 
condemn me to death. Now he threatens to have me punished for 
that crime, of which I know nothing, onty that circumstantial evi¬ 
dence was against me at the time, if Evalena will not consent to 
marry him. So in order to save me she sacrificed herself. 

Her. And what was the tragedy, pray? 

Sloan. Ah, Herbert, I cannot tell you that— I must not. 

Her. And are you innocent ? 

Sloan. Can you doubt my innocence—do you doubt it? Oh, Her¬ 
bert, believe me—as sure as there is a Supreme Ruler I am innocent, 
brJ I cannot prove it in opposition to John Simon. 

Her. I do not doubt your innocence, Mr. Sloan. But have you 
made no attempt to prove it? Have you not consulted detective 
aid? 

Sloan. No, I have no clue, and I have feared publicity. 

Her. Do you know the nature of Simon’s evidence against you? 

Sloan. All the evidence I know of is his old book-keeper, and he 
is in foreign countries—perhaps dead. 

Her. There you are mistaken, for he has returned to this city 
within the last few days. With your permission, Mr. Sloan, I will 
lay this case before Philip Darbeen, one of my warmest friends, and 
gee if he cannot ferret out a result that will prove your innocence- * 




A MIDNIGHT MISTAKE. 


13 


Sloan. But suppose the tables should turn against me? 

Her. Doubt not. Philip will* at my request, work for your bene¬ 
fit. And as sure as you are innocent you shall triumph. 

Sloan. Ah, Herbert, you do not know the nature of John Simon’s 
opposition. But do as you will—I can do nothing myself. I trust 
you; and if you can clear this mystery, rest assured you shall be 
well recompensed. 

Her. The recompense I would ask, Mr. Sloan, would be a great 
one, namely, your daughter. 

Sloan. With all my heart, Herbert. 

Her. Then I must go and see Philip at once. Make Evalena ac¬ 
quainted with the import of our interview, and tell her that, although 
contrary to her expostulations, I will call on her at my first oppor¬ 
tunity. Remain in good spirits, Mr. Sloan, and all will yet be right¬ 
ed. Good evening, sir. (Exit, l. 

Sloan. The old book-keeper has returned, and now Philip Dar- 
been, the shrewdest of western detectives, will be placed on Simon’s 
trail. Ah, John Simon, you may yet receive your just reward. 

(Closed in with 

SCEXE IY.— Street in 1st grooves—stage half dark. Music pp. 

Thunder and lightning, after which, enter very excitedly with an 

enormous sham detective's badge on his coat in front, 

Peter, r. 

Peter. Golly! I believe dis chile am struck by thunder an’ liglit- 
xitn 7 , for I feel de shock of de magnet all fru mj r physical institoo- 
shun. ( shivers) Dat war a mighty hard stroke she struck dat time. 
It beat de blow my gal Sal gub me de udder day. But I must go 
down an’ see her now, an’ den I must hunt up de lilly-white gal for 
de detect. I wonder if he aint gone sweet on her? If so, he shall 
hab her. Dese gals are mighty hard to do wid. De udder day as I 
an’ Sal, an’ Sal’s No. 12 cowhides, was walkin’ down street, we came 
by a jeroorahy shop; an’ dar war rings, an’ bracelets, and breast¬ 
pins, an’ ear-drops, an’ jerooralry of all kinds bangin’ in de window 
of dat ’ar jerooralry shop, an’Sal says to me, says she: “Pete, go 
imy dem.” Well, I did— I went right by dem. But I guess I’ll go 
fin’ see her now. ( goes l., when lightning and thunder, he stops, ex¬ 
hibiting fear ) Dis am a hard night to be out in. Wonder if I hadn’t 
better go home? ( looks of l.— steps back ) Ilokey pokey! an’ who 
am dis cornin’? By de curlin’-irons in Sal’s head, an’it’s de gal 
I’se detectin’! Guess I’ll take observashuns an’ get to business. 
(struts around stage , when 

Enter l., Julia, heavily wrapped. 

Good evening, Miss. ( bows low —Julia not heeding, passes on R. and 
exits) Well! she am high-strung, shuah! ( looking r.) Guess 
somethings afoot. Radder tink dis chile will follow. (Exit, R. 

Thunder and lightning, when enter, wearing rain-coat and southwester, 

DeLeon, l. 

DeL. It’s a stormy night, but good for me. (heavy peal of thunder 
and flash of lightning. LeLeon, r.) Hope the fellow will come soon, 


a midnight: mistake. 


u 

then five thousand will be mine, and I’ll retire from business and go 
to Spain, and lead a life of pleasure. Ha, ha, ha! (Hereproduce as 
heavy a peal of thunder and flash of lightning as possible, from which 
DeLeon is stunned and falls senseless to stage, R. Continue rumbling 
of thunder at the discretion of manager throughout the scene. Shortly 
after DeLeon is stunned, enter, iveil wrapped up, so as not to be readily 
recognized 

John Simon, l., stops l. 

Sim. The thought of the deed that to-night will be perpetrated 
makes it impossible for me to rest, therefore I will be around and see 
how things will go, and possibly be of some assistance. Ah, Her¬ 
bert, you should not have interfered with me. (paces stage to k., 
discovers DeLeon) Ah, who is this? Surely not Herbert! (stoops 
to examine—arises ) DeLeon, as I live! Is it possible? Can it be 
possible that they have met, and that he has slain my trusty De¬ 
Leon? Cukes a position a la fiend) If so, John Simon, your hand 
in the game is called upon. I must go to Herbert’s room and ply 
the dagger myself. My knowledge of the weapon will now be of 
service. But I gave this fellow five hundred dollars this afternoon— 
must secure the money if it is about his person. ( stoops and examines 
DeLeon’s pockets) Ah! here it is. (presents package of money. Con¬ 
tinues searching—feels over breast pocket—draws forth small leather 
packet containing documents) What can this be ? Evidently some 
treasure. I will keep it, and examine it at a more opportune time. 
It may be worth the while, (puts packet in pocket—rises ) Now for 
Herbert’s room. (Exit r. 

Shortly after Simon exits DeLeon regains his senses. This must be 
performed with keen judgment, in order to appear natural. 

DeL. (rising) Why did I lay there? I feel queer, (rubs limbs ) 
What happened me? (light thunder peal) Must have been “thunder 
struck.” Suppose Herbert’s gone home now. Must go to his room 
and see. ( Exit r. — Change to 


SCENE V.— Apartment—beadstead upper l. corner, with hangings 
around it. Chair near l. Stage dark. If practical have window r., 
through which Simon and DeLeon enter. Thunder and lightning, 
when, with dagger between teeth , 

Enter through ivindow , r., John Simon. 

Sim. (clock in rear of scene strikes twelve. Simon startled by it) 
He must be in bed. (approaches bed stealthily, when enter through 
window R., in same manner, DeLeon; he makes a slight noise, which 
attracts Simon’s attention, ivho, supposing him to be Herbert, seizes 
him, with knife drawn, and knife battle ensues, in which Simon slays 
DeLeon. During the battle thunder and lightning. Tremolo music. 
After the combat Simon takes c. oj stage) The deed in done! Vic¬ 
tory, Evalena and legacy of millions are mine! Now to conceal the 
act by firing the house, and all will be well! (light red fire at wings) 

(Exit Simon, r. 


QUICK CURTAIN* 


A MIDNIGHT MISTAKE . 


13 


ACT II. 

SCENE I.—Simon’s Office as in Act 1st , Scene 1st. 

Enter Peter, l. 

Peter . Dis heah detect business am gettin’ mighty interestin’, 
considerin’ I’se only been at it a day. I ’spect de boss an’ de lilly- 
white gal will meet heah pretty soon, so I’ll just play hide-an’-seek 
wid ’em. (.goes towards table) Hide from dar eyes an’ seek from 
dar hearts—dat is if dey hab any. (gets under table) 

Enter Simon, l., note in hand. 

Sim. Julia has requested an interview. What can it mean? Can 
it be possible that my engagement to Evalena has been made known 
to her? If so I must work shrewdly to foil her. 

Peter, (aside) Go slow, ole fellow, for you can’t foil me, de boss 

detect. 

m Enter Julia, l. 

Julia. How good of you, miserable villain, to meet me so prompt- 

^ Sim. Ah, Julia dear, what means this compliment? 

Julia. Can you ask? dare you ask, when the news of your en¬ 
gagement to Evalena Sloan is spread over the entire city, and I am 
your legal wife? 

Peter, (aside) Golly; ole skin flint am married! Oughter be 
ashamed! But I’se de detect. 

Sim. And you believe such street gossip ? 

Julia. I did not at first, but I am forced to now. Oh, John! 
John! what does this mean ? Why will you not make our union 
known ? I cannot bear this suspense any longer—now or never. 

(sinks into chair ) , , . 

Peter, (aside) It am known to Peter, the detect. 

Sim. * Julia, clear, you surprise me! I do not understand what 
you mean. Our marriage shall be made known as soon as certain 
business transactions of mine are settled. The story of my engage¬ 
ment to Evalena is false—simply a blackmailing scheme. And now 
I wish you would go back to Chicago, and thereby foil Philip Daiv 

Peter, ^a'side) Can’t foil mine though, ole skin-flint. 

Julia', (rising, and indignantly) Never! never! You are evad- 
in£T me ! I have proofs to the contrary of your assertions ! I will go 
immediately to Philip Dai been ami tell him all! Yes, all! (going l. 

Sim. (in rage, and suddenly) Never! (draws dagger) Or you 
shall re°ret the telling. Do as I say and all will be well; refuse, and 
I will carve out your contaminative heart where you stand, rather 
than be foiled and ruined. 

Julia, (defiantly) Ah, villain though you are, you dare not mur- 

/■lor* mo ^ 

Sim.' (stepping forward) Dare not! What should prevent me ? 
Peter (springs from under table, draws two revolvers, and aims at 

Simon)' Dose two rebolbers—in de hands of Peter, de detect! Young 


ic • A MIDNIGHT MISTAKE. 

gal, you git, for yer kalliker’s not safe here. (exit Julia, i,.) Ole 
boss, drop dat ’ar knife! ( Simon not obeying) Drop it, I say ! (cov- , 

enng him will revolvers. Simon drops dagger. Petlyi goes l., when 
Simon stoops to pick up dagger; as Simon rises, Peter whirls , present¬ 
ing revolvers again ) No you don't, boss, or de slugs in dese liar le- 
bolber’s ’ll go hard wid you. (Simon drops dagger. Business repeat¬ 
ed. This time Simon, with dagger upraised , rushes after Peter, who, 
when at l. wing , falls on one knee presenting pistols over shoulders at 
Simon and looking back ) Drap it! ( Simon obeys, Peter rises ) kow 
look heah, boss, you pick up dat ’ar dagger an’ git; I’ll keep house 
while you’re gone. 

Sim. Curse your impudence, you meddlesome fool! (exit, l. 

Peter. Fool i Yes, but I’se too much of a Sollermun for you, 
boss, (laughs) Golly! I caught him nice, an’dey waren’t loaded 
at all. (snaps revolvers) No, sir; nary load. Guess I’ll go an’ see 
de detect now, an’ get new instructions. (exit, l. 

Enter Simon, c. 

Sim. Things are becoming extremely warm now. Curse the 
luck! I wonder how much that darkey heard, and what h^was 
prowling around for? The only course left me now is an early mar¬ 
riage with Evalena, and to throw off Julia by proving our union 
illegal. I must call on Evalena and have the ceremony take, place 
this evening, before public scandal is aroused. One good thing in 
my favor now is the midnight deed of last night. Herbert, at least, 
will not interfere now. The marriage knot once tied, my money and 
position will defy the world and its detectives,! (n. c.) 

Enter Herbert, r. 

Her, Ah, good morning, Simon! 

Sim. (staggering r., in surprise and fear) Herbert! Herbert! 14 
it possible? 

Her. Possible—what ? 

Sim. (aside) What can this mean? (aloud) I have been inform^ 
ed—that—that—you had set lire to your house last night, and then 
committed suicide, and I was about to go and learn the particulars— 
and now, as the theologians have it, you “materialize” so suddenly 
that it surprises me, even as did the news of your untimely death. 

Iler. Ha, ha, ha! that’s a good one! Why, where did you get 
that gossip from? My house is burned, but, as you see, I am still 
among the living. 

Sim. (aside) This is "puzzle, (aloud) Your house? I rather 
think it was mine, for to-day I shall foreclose my mortgage against 
your home—so you will now take notice accordingly. And I shall 
not need your services hereafter. 

Her. (coolly) Does this come from the fact that we are rivals in 
love? 

# Sim. Question me not, and the space you occupy is at present of 
more value to me than your presence. Go ! 

Her. I will. But remember, John Simon, that the time may 
come when the space you now occupy may be held by your humble 
servant. And you need not trouble yourself with the foreclosing of 
the spoken-of mortgage, for I hold that! 




A MIDNIGHT MISTAKE, 


17 


Sim . The devil! How came you by it? 

Her. A few .days since, my uncle, whom we all supposed dead, 
returned from the gold mines of Australia, where he has become 
rich, and, upon learning my financial situation, purchased the mort¬ 
gage of your attorney and presented it to me. He also thinks your 
administration of my father’s estate was not correct. I may call on 
you for a settlement soon. Till then, adieu ! (Exit, l. 

Sim. What can all this mean ? I am positively certain that I kill¬ 
ed a man in Herbert’s room last night. But whom could it have 
been? Oh, can it be possible that DeLeon was the victim? Yes, 
yes, it must be so, for he has not been found to-day. He must have 
been unconscious on the street from some cause, and after awakening 
came to the room. Yes, that must be the way, a midnight mistake, 
that will forever haunt me! And now to make the case more dubi¬ 
ous, Herbert’s uncle, my old book-keeper, has returned. But what 
care I—let them come ! My trail is smoothed out! But I found a 
packet in DeLeon’s pocket last night. I wonder what it contains? 
\takes packet from pocket, undoes it, takes out paper and reads) 

“To whom this may coxcern : —My true and real name is Joseph 
Simondale, son of Frank and Mary Simondale, of Dover, England, 
and whom I have not seen since I was seven j^ears old. At that time 
I accompanied my parents and elder brother, John, on a voyage to 
France, on which voyage we were shipwrecked. Since then I have 
seen neither my parents nor brother. When the ship was dashed to 
pieces I was carried away on a piece of the wreck, from which 1 was 
picked up by a gang of Spanish sea pirates, who named me Jose De¬ 
Leon, and reared me to the life I have since led. I came to America 
in the year 1874, and have since been engaged in many acts of crime. 
Should any person, into whose hands this may come, know aught of 
tny parents or brother, providing they were saved, he would confer 
a favor by forwarding them this packet, and informing them of my 
death, thereby fulfilling the last prayer of a miserable wretch. 

" Joseph Simondale, alias Jose DeLeon.” 

Great Heavens! my brother! and killed by my hand! U A Midnight 
Mistake ,” unpardonable in heaven and on earth! Simondale was our 
family name, and the one that I bore until 1 emigrated to America. 
And so Joseph was also saved from that fatal wreck, only to fall a 
prey to the whims of his brother. Oh, what a villain I must be! 
This deed drives me wild ! And then to think of the many similar 
ones heaped upon my head—all—all—for the love of gold! Gold! 
that burnetii out my very vitals! Oh ! were I only as innocent of crime 
as I was on the night of that fatal shipwreck that forever separated 
me from the kind, loving, warning admonitions of a Christian mo¬ 
ther, I would forever remain so. Oh, mother! mother! comedown 
from your heavenly exalted position but one moment to your clespis- 
able son, and help him to regain his youthful innocence ! But no! 
Too late! Yes, yes; it is too late. The die is cast. I am lost—lost 
—lost. But why these foolish meditations, when I have so much to 
divert my mind. I will go and bid Evalena prepare for a speedy 
marriage to take place to-night. After that I care not a fig lor their 
prosecutions. (Exit l.'—C losed inby 


• 18 A MIDNIGHT MISTAKE. 

SCENE II .—A street . 

> 

Enter Philip Darbeen, r. 

Philip. How startling events crowd upon me. The life of a de¬ 
tective is full of exciting incidents. Who would have thought that 
the peaceful appearing broker and manufacturer, John Simon, had 
ever been connected with a tragedy. But such is evidently the case, 
judging from discoveries that I have made. And to add further as¬ 
tonishment, Simon has made up his mind to marry Evalena Sloan, 
my friend Herbert’s betrothed. But I guess I’ll stop that scheme, 
and perhaps Herbert will speak a good word for me to his sister. 
But 1 must find my assistant, the darkey, and ascertain if he has 
made any discoveries. ( goes l.) Ah, here he comes. 

Enter Peter, l. 

Philip. Peter, I was just now looking for you. 

Peter. Well, Pse heah! Say, boss, dey tell me you am de best 
detect in de west. 

Philip. Is that so? 

Peter. Yeah, dat am so. But say, when it comes to de point, Pse 
probably de next best, eh? 

Philip. Probably. But have you made any discoveries in the 
case I gave you yesterday ? 

Peter.. Discoveries? Well, I should smile I has. 

Philip. And with what result? 

Peter. Result ’nuff. Say, you know de gal? 

Philip. What girl ? 

Peter. De gal I’se detectin’! 

Philip. Certainly. 

Peter. Yeah, I thought so. Say, am you not gone a little sweet 
on her? that is to say, so sweet dat by spiliin’ a barrel of sour acid 
vinegar down yer throat, sweet honey-kisses would still be left for 
her, eh? 

Philip. Well, what if I should be so sweet? 

Peter. Don’t you be it any more, boss. 

Philip. And why? 

Peter . Because, judgin’ from de awful solemnity of my important 
callin’ as subordinate detect, it am again de law ob de lan’, an’ de 
order ob de pulpit, to be sweet on anodder man’s wife. 

Philip. What, is she truly married? 

Peter. Dat am about de size ob it, boss, accordin’ to my observa¬ 
tions, an’ dey are many an’ far between. 

Philip. ( anxiously) And with whom is she married? 

Peter. Why, to—to—to— to a man! ob course! Say, boss, you 
am pretty badly gone. You better take a little “spirit” wine. 

( laughs ) 

Philip. Peter, lay aside this burlesque parlance, and make a 
speedy report of your commission, or I’ll discharge you. 

Peter. Well, you see 1 went down to Simon’s office dis mornin’ 
an’ happened to crawl under de table. Bymby ole skin-flint come 
in, air bymby de gal come in an’ commence givin’ him particular 
thunder for goin’ sweet on anodder gal, when she war his le°-al 
honeysuckle; an’ she wanted skin-flint to tell people dat they were 


A MIDNIGHT MISTAKE. 


19 


* 


married, whicli he wouldn’t do. Den she got her dander up an’ 
said she’d tell Philip Darbeen, who I spec’ is yourself, when Simon 
got mad an’ drawee! a big knife, about so long, ( measures burlesquely 
by spreading arms) an’ I don’t know what might have been done if 1 
hadn’t been dar wid my two rebolbers, de lor’ only knows what * 
might have happened. Oh, I tell you 1’se had a skirmish, I has. 

Philip. And so Julia is married to John Simon? 

Peter. Sartingly! You didn’t suppose she was married to me or 
you, did yer? 

Philip. No, sir; nor to a Frenchman, if you like. 

Peter . Frenchman! What’s dat? 

Philip. Why, a man of course. 

Peter. Den why do you call him French? 

Philip. Because he is a native of France, and speaks the French 
language. 

Peter. Dat’s kind o’ skurious. But what do you mean by de 
French language. 

Philip. I mean French, and nothing else. It is a language by 
itself, that one can’t understand unless he has learned it. 

Peter. Dat am skurious. Why, dar isn’t any sense in dat. 

Philip. As much sense as in our language. 

Peter. Can’t see dat point. 

Philip. It is plain enough. The different nations have different 
languages, and one can’t understand the other until they have learn¬ 
ed their languages. 

Peter. Why, dat’s de most ridikolus thing I ever heard of. Dar’s 
no day light in dat at all. 

Philip. Now look here, Peter; you will admit that a cow can 
talk to a cow? 

Peter. Yes. 

Philip. And a cat can talk to a cat? 

Peter. Yes. 

Philip. And a horse can talk to a horse? 

Peter. Yes. 

Philip. But a horse can’t talk to a cow or cat, nor a cow or cat 
to a horse ? 

Peter. No. But a cow can talk to an ox an’ be understood! 

Philip. That’s in her own nation, and comes natural. Well, now 
you can see it is plain and correct for one nation to speak differ¬ 
ent from ana* w? 

Peter. Blame if I can. Dar isn’t any point. Now you look 
liar, bo*s—is a Frenchman a cow? 

Philip. No. 

Peter. Or a cat? 

Philip. No. 

Peter. Or a horse? 

Philip. No. 

Peter. Well den, is he a man? 

Philip. Yes, he is a man. 

Peter. Well, den, dog-on-it, why don’t he talk like a man? Tell 
me dat! . 

Philip. Oh, you are too stupid to understand anything. 

Peter. Probably L am, but you can’t learn me anything’bout 
languages. 




m 


A MIDNIGHT MISTAEh , 


Philip. Well, I must go. Come to my office at exactly seven 
o’clock, this evening, as I may need you then. Meanwhile keep a 
shadowing eye on John Simon. Good-bye. {Exit, l. 

Peter. Well, you’re a dead-goner, boss, an’ so am I. Guess I’ll 
go down and see Sal now. {here introduce darkey love song appropri¬ 
ate to the occasion , after which Peter exit, R. — Music) 

CURTAIN. 


ACT III. 

SCENE I.— Sloan’s parlor as in Act 1st, Scene 3d. 

Enter Evalena, l., elegantly attired. 

Evalena. To-night is the time set for my marriage to John Simon. 
How miserable life seems! I have lived in hopes of something to 
occur to stay this sinful act, but in vain. Must I be led to the altar 
for sacrifice like a dumb brute? To save father I must. 

Enter Sloan, l. 

Sloan. Evalena, has not Simon arrived? 

Evalena. No; and I hope he will not. But, father, before I give 
myself to this base fiend, you must inform me of the nature of the 
crime for which Simon holds you accountable, and for the redemp¬ 
tion of which I am a sacrifice. 

Sloan. It is a tragedy of a severe kind, the nature of which you 
shall know soon, but I cannot inform you now. Yesterday I left the 
case with Philip Darbeen, for him to ferret out the truth in the af¬ 
fair if possible. And as the only witness in the case is now in the 
city, I entertain hopes of a successful termination and the establish¬ 
ing of my innocence. Therefore spare me the painful act of inform¬ 
ing you till, at least, the bitter end. 

Evalena. Would to Heaven that he could prove your innocence 
ere it be too late. 

Enter Simon, l. 

Sim. Ah, good evening. Am I late? I have just been to the 
parsonage and made arrangements for the ceremony? so, Evalena 
if you are ready we will go there immediately. Mr. Sloan, you will 
of course accompany us, as I wish you lor one of the witnesses. 

Evalena. Mr. Simon, can we not postpone the ceremony until to¬ 
morrow evening? 

Sim. Impossible! as I must leave the city to-morrow on business 
and may be gone a week; besides, there is no reason for deHv. 

Sloan. John Simon, the ceremony shall not be performed before 
to-morrow evening, at least, and possibly not then. 

Sim. What do you mean, sir? 

Sloan. I mean just what I say! It is but just that you favor my 
daughter in at least this one desire. Yesterday she sacrificed her 
fondest hopes to you, and now you sh'ould sacrifice this whim of 
yours to her. 

Sim. There is no sense in that, considering the situation. Eva- 
le.ua, it you will get ready we will go to the parsonage at once. 


+• 





A MIDNIGHT mistake. 

Enter Philip, l. 




past hour, Mrt’sureTy did^oTexpecTto for y° u during the 

ssissa i “ »«~ss»s,5r„ ns-zi 

ple^e cafl atmy m officVhr the momh^ 8 ’' 1683 this eVenin S- Y °u will 

sirf^ul^K^S^fe “ m sAml ^ .-od 

ness with you isofso o-rave “ imnoS reqiles . t > but “1 busi- 
atonce. ° au lmp0It as to necessitate a settlement 

Sim. Well, what the deuce is it ? 

ducing papers) ’ S blmpl y tllls > that 1 bare two warrants here {pro- 
Enter Hebbekt, e., unobserved by Simon. 

fr 0M book-keep- 

which you were administrator - and iho nH tiie . Honeyton estate, of 
of you/humble ^ ^ 

with the murder of Arthur Winslow • ’ char gmg you 

eighteen years ago. (Herbert crosses Baltimore > 

around her waist, partly facing audience) Evale ^a } e., puts arm 

Positions. 

Simon l. Eyaiena r. Herbert l. of Evalen \ p TTTTT 

rear of Simon. Sloan rear of c.* R '’ ° nd 

Philip. Therefore, in the. name of the neonle of thi« 
are my prisoner ! (business of fear by Simon) * this state, you 

Her. (raising l. hand and pointina at SttuyvmA a- 

space you occupy is at present of more value to me than your fr^ence- 

yofto arrest me™ such 'cha^iT PI ° Ve to the c “y » I defy 

Si 1 ” f at y°" not exer- 
years, and that now, through this inflnpn duilu § the P ast eighteen 
his daughter to marry°you. I havefthe’ who?!^ 6 tryin f ^ force 
doomed. On the night of November 9th eiVh£ Case ’ and you are 
murdered and robbed Arthur Winslow at ’ll d!f™ years 1 ag . 0 ’ you 
Harry Sloan, in an intoxicated qnd hiJenstll S>ndffi and i & ? iin S 
ly brought on by your villainv mu ,-Uo G i C u- ltl0n ’ un d°ubted- 

blood, knife in hand, by the side^/your Victim lm> T s j P rinkled wit h 

your book-keeper into your confidence md in mm Then y ? 1 ? took 

went to the scene of horror and wif-hVi™ m com P ai W witn him 

Sloan to consciousness, and to realize Ms ho??[bif Sion reS l?I ecl 
believed himself guilty at the time and aT e position. Sloan 

the belief on account of circumstantial evidence You “ho® 1 ' in *° 
hid the crime from the authorities on condition fw Si ho T ever > 
perform certain acts for you, the nature ofwhfnhu* bloan sho,lld 
learned. Since then you have contMnedholdTniE* haVe as , yet not 
Sloan. The truth at last-th^nk Heaven” * your slave ' 

foQ) ItlSf! ‘ l6e! 1 " qu immediately go and arrange a defence! 


&£ A MIDNIGHT MISTAKE. 

Philip. (stopping him ) Not so fast, my good man. Remember 
you are my prisoner. You can prove nothing to the contrary of 
what I say, for here ( presenting more documents) I have copy ot 
affidavits in the case, made by your old book-keeper, and other docu¬ 
ments taken by him last night from your safe, upon which you un¬ 
doubtedly rely for a defence. 

Sloan. Ah, John Simon, you are outwitted at last. Now freedom 

will once more be mine. , 

Her. John Simon, “I shall not need your services hereafter. 

Sim. (to Herbert) The devil take you and your impudence. 
(to Philip) From my safe did you say? Impossible; he could not 

ent£r it. , 

Philip. He knew the combination from olden times. -But come, 

we must go and leave these people to their joy. 

Sim. Then I am indeed ruined and disgraced. But no ! (hastily 
drains dagger from breast pocket, with suicidal intentions. Philip 
catches his arm. Evalena shows fear. Philip disarms Simon) 

Philip. No, none of that while in my care. Probably I had bet¬ 
ter put the bracelets on you. (handcuffing him ) Now we are ready 

to travel. . , . 1 

Peter. (outside , l.) Dis way, Miss Julia; I thinks dey am m de 

parlor. 

Enter Peter and Julia, l. 

Peter, (to Philip) Hello; boss! I didn’t ’spect to find you here. 

( discovers Simon) What, ole skin-flint, have dey got de bracelets on 
you? (examines) What a pify de ole fellow down dar (pointing 
downward) hain’t got his chain fastened onto dem, an’ his crew to 
haulin’. 

When Julia enters she rushes to Herbert, throws her arms around 

his neck, &c., sobbing. 

Julia. Brother! brother! can you ever forgive me ? 

Her. (gently releasing her) I forgave you long since, Julia, and 
have searched for you. But your betrayer I will never forgive. 

Julia, (discovering Simon) What, you miserable wretch here ? 
Begone ! and never again cross my path. 

Philip. Miss Honeyton, your desire shall be complied with. 
Peter, take John Simon to jail. 

Sim. Julia, I shall never forget you. In my darkest hour I will 
remember you, and believe me, I would have arranged all for the 

best. 

Julia. Begone! foul imp of Satan! 

Sim. (aside) All misery the result of that fatal Midnight Mistake! 
(aloud) To you, Herbert Honeyton, I owe this degradation. Re¬ 
member, to you! And when I gain my liberty your worthless 
carcass shall suffer the penalty! 

Peter. Say, ole fellow, it’s about time for us to travel, or your 
hotel may be closed for de night. 

Sim. Yes. Good-bye, Julia, Evalena, Sloan and Herbert; we 
will meet again. * (Exit Simon and Peter, l. 

Philip. He is now safe for the balance of his years. A victim of 
the love of gold and avarice. 


A MIDNIGHT MISTAKE. 


S3 

Sloan, (talcing Philip’s hand) My dear Darbeen, I cannot enough 
thank you for your service in setting me at liberty from the shadows 
that have enshrouded my life for eighteen years. 

Philip. No thanks, sir. It is my profession. 

Julia. And I feel that I owe to you the gratitude of a life-time, 
and which I can never repay. 

Philip. Ah, Miss Honey ton, there you are mistaken. You must 
recompense me, although the boon I ask is a great one. 

Julia. How? 

Philip, (taking her hand in his) By extending to me your heart 
and hand, and becoming a helpmeet unto me in the trials of life that 
are to follow. 

Julia. You surprise me. Remember I am not yet divorced from 
John Simon, so for an answer you must wait. 

Her. Do not let him wait long, Julia, for he is a noble boy. 

Evalena. And is the cause of all our happiness, as John Simon 
was of our misery. 

Sloan. And now, kind friends, while we are all assembled, I wish 
to make another startling revelation. I have never committed but 
one act contrary to law, and it is that I now wish to confess. Eva¬ 
lena, to you I appeal for mercy and forgiveness. You are not my 
daughter, but the daughter of Arthur Winslow, the murdered mil¬ 
lionaire, of Baltimore. When you were but a child, one year of age, 
Simon forced me, under penalty of death, to kidnap you from your 
home of luxury and comfort, and rear you; that when you became 
of sufficient age he might marry you, and by proving your heirship 
to the Winslow estate, come into possession of your legal propertjr. 
I committed the deed, and have ever since tried to fulfil the duties 
of a father to you to the best of my ability. Can you forgive me? 

Evalena. (in deep emotion) Can it be possible? Can it be true? 
(goes to Sloan, throws arms around his neck ) Oh, father, is it so? 

Sloan. Yes, child, it is. Can you forgive me now, that I am at 
liberty to restore you to your true position in the world? 

Evalena. Indeed I can, and will, with all my heart. You were 
not to blame, and you have been a kind and true father to me. But 
with my forgiveness I ask one favor. My father is dead you say; 
may I not continue calling you father, and look to you for paternal 
guidance as in times of yore? 

Sloan. I am not worthy the honor. But with all my faults I have 
learned to love you with a warm paternal love, and it would be hard 
for me to lose you—therefore as you will. 

Her. Evalena—Miss Winslow, I mean—1 presume your present 
exalted position will not allow a continuance of our acquaintance ? 

Evalena. (smiling) " Come with me into the front parlor, while I 
upbraid you for that address. And lest 1 should be too severe with 
you, Philip and Julia will please accompany, and we will spend an 
evening together, now that all is bright again, (going R., with Her¬ 
bert, followed by Julia and Philip. Exit , r. ) 

Sloan, (watching them off) Happy couples. And I am left alone. 

(Exit, l. 


CURTAIN—MUSIC. 


H 


A MIDNIGHT MISTAKE. 
ACT IV. 


SCENE I .—Parle or landscape set in 3d or 4th grooves. Pustic bench 
or settee, r., close to scene. Tremolo music , when, 

Enter Simon, l. 2 e., dressed in dilapidated prison garb, long gray hair 
and beard, having the heaving and demeanor of a maniac. Footlights 
down. 

Sim. Ah, they would chain me, would they! and keep me from 
my enemy! But they could not! could not! The„y have offered a 
thousand dollars for me—dead or alive! But wait till I have revenged 
myself! Revenge! revenge! revenge! I must have! I have seen 
Herbert and Evalena walk in this park (or wood) during the past 
few days. If they come to-day I shall be revenged. The victim of 
death in that Midnight Mistake calls on me every night for revenge. 
To-day it shall come ! Yes, to-day! Ha, ha, ha! Ah, the spirit of 
my brother, ( imagines sees spirit ) gory and ghastly, beckoning me 
to action! Go back and rest, brother, for the lingering rays of yon 
departing sun shall not have vanished in oblivion ere thy death shall 
be revenged! Ah! ( strikes attitude of observance) he goes—goes— 
he is gone! ( looks up it.) There they come! I knew they would. 
{draws large knife ) Now to conceal myself. {steps back of icings 
or if practicable, tree) 

Enter Herbert and Evalena, i: ., arm in arm. 

Evaleno. How lovely everything seems in this beautiful spring¬ 
time. Everything seems to join and coincide with us in our happi¬ 
ness. 

Her. Yes, dear, Nature in her- 

Enter Simon, l., confronting them 

Sim. Herbert Honeyton! {chord — Simon raises knife) we have 
metagain! (Herbert steps back in fear — Evalena clings to him) 
You have crossed my path and thwarted my plan*—now for revenge ! 
You are the cause of my degradation. Once before I sought to kill 
you—in your room on the night of the burning of your house, but 
missed you and killed my own brother, whom I had engaged to as- 
sasinate you at midnight. A fatal Midnight Mistake, which is the 
cause of my degradation through you direct. The spirit of my broth¬ 
er calls for revenge—I want revenge, and now I will have it! And 
you, {to Evalena) false one, shall share his fate! Ha, ha, ha! I 
have them! Herbert Honeyton, say your prayers, {dances wildly 
around them) 

Her. Simon, beware! or- 

Sim. ( enraged) Open not your mouth or it will shorten your ex¬ 
istence ! ( rushes at them with knife raised. Evalena falls into settee. 

Deport of gun is heard r. ; Simon falls to stage — dead, when 

Enter Peter, r. 

With gun in position as if recently fired, biy sham wooden razor pro¬ 
truding from back of neck, revolvers and knife tucked in belt. Takes 
triumphant position. 

Peter. I knowed dat gun would fetch him, for Pse knowed dat 
*ar gun since it war a pistol! Eack! Yes sir-ee! I war just in 
time, eh ? 





A MIDNIGHT MISTAKE. £5 

Her. (extending hand) Peter, I cannot sufficiently thank you for 
this timely deliverance from this maniacal fiend. 

Peter. Oh, dat’s all right, boss, for Use de boss detect, you know. 
But who am de willainr He ought to have his head soaked in de 
town pump. 

Her. It is John Simon, the victim of crime. 

Peter. Wnat, ole skin-flint Simon? Den Use mighty rich now, 
fv»r dere was a thousand dollars offered for dis job. But he’s now de 
victim of de ole “black boss Insself,” or 1’se no detect. 

Lvalenci. ( rising) Herbert, dear, let us depart from this terrible 

scene of horror. 

Her. Yes, we will go. Peter, will you call the coroner and have 
the corpse taken in charge ? 

Peter. Yes, sah. But now you must stick by me, so dat dey 
don’t stretch me for dis. ( going r.) 

Her. Never fear, Peter. (Peter exits, r.) Ah, here comes Philip, 
Julia, and Mr. Sloan, 

Enter Philip, Julia, and Sloan, r. 

Philip. What horrible scene have we here? 

Her. I’m glad you have come, Philip. We were attacked by 
John Simon, the prison fugitive—and would have been murdered, 
as 1 had no weapons—but lor the timely appearance of Peter. ( all 
rather round Simon —business of examination, &c.) 

Philip. Simon, to be sure. What a terrible fate! 

Sloan. At last has the measure with which he meted been meted 
out to him. There is no question but that he deserved it; but it 
seems hard to see one of (Tod’s creatures, intended for brighter 
realms, fall below eartlhy or divine redemption, through crime and 
avarice. 

Julia. Yes, one whom I once didst love, 

Lost forever to the realms above. 

Philip. Julia, dear, you are now divorced by a higher tribunal 
than those established by man; therefore, as there now are no cere¬ 
monial objection, I again plead my case. Will you become my wife? 
^ extends hand) 

Julia. If i am worthy—yes. ( gives hand — all take positions) 

Sloan. And now, kind friends, that we are all free from the ter¬ 
rible influence of a scheming villain, let us give thanks for our res¬ 
toration and preservation to Divine Providence, and profiting by 
the dark example before us, that crime in all its phases, great or 
small, but leads to destruction, present and hereafter, strive to lead 
a purer life, and to consecrate ourselves to justice and the welfare 
of our fellow man. 

Her. (to Audience) And if ever we, or our friends here, should, 
in an evil hour, be tempted to fraud and crime, may we all remem¬ 
ber the victim of ‘‘A Midnight Mistake .” 

CURTAIN—MUSIC. 

Disposition of Characters . 

Julia r. Philip r. Sloan c. Simon c. f. Herbert l. Evalena l* 



Ames’ Plays—Continued. 


NO. 

' ' 

it 

F 

103 

FARCES CONTINUED. 

IIow Sister Paxey got her 
Child Baptiz d. 

O 

1 

50 

How She has Own Wav. 

1 

3 

140 

How He Popped the Quest’n. 

1 

1 

74 

How to Tame M-in-Law. 

4 

2 

35 

How Stout Vour Getting. 

5 

2 

47 

In the Wrong Box. 

3 

0 

95 

In the Wrong Clothes. 

5 

3 

11 

John Smith. 

5 

3 

99 

Jumbo Juni. 

4 

3 

82 

Killing Tone. 

1 

1 

182 

Ivittie’s Wedd'ng Cake. 

2 

2 

127 

Lick Skillet Wedding. 

2 

2 

106 

Lodgings for Two. 

o 

j 

0 

139 

Matrimonial Bliss. 

1 

1 

69 

Mother’s Fool. 

6 

1 

l 

Mr. and Mrs. Pringle. 

7 

2 

158 

Mr. Hudson’s Tiger Hunt. 

1 

1 

23 

My Heart’s in Highlands. 

4 

3 

208 

N y Precious Betsey. 

My Turn Next. 

4 

4 

212 

4 

3 

32 

Mr Wife’s Relations. 

4 

4 

186 

My Day and Now-a-Days. 

1 

0 

44 

Obedience. 

1 

2 

33 

On the Sly.... 

3 

2 

57 

Paddy Miles’ Boy. 

5 

2 

165 

Persecuted Dutchman. 

6 

3 

195 

Poor Pilicody. 

3 

2 

159 

Quiet Family... 

4 

4 

171 

Rough Diamond....-. 

6 

3 

180 

Ripples. 

2 

0 

48 

Scnnaps... 

1 

1 

138 

Sewing Circle of Period. 

0 

5 

115 

S. H. A. M. Pinafore. 

5 

3 

55 

Somebody’s Nobody. 

3 

2 

137 

Taking the Census. 

1 

1 

40 

Th it Mysterious B’dle. 

2 

2 

38 

Tne Bewitched Closet. 

5 

2 

131 

The Cigarette. 

4 

2 

101 

The Coming Man. 

3 

1 

167 

Turn Him Out. 

3 

3 

68 

The Sham Professor. 

The Two T. J’s. 

4 

0 

54 

4 

2 

28 

'1 hirty-three Next Birthday.. 

4 

2 

142 

Tit for Tat. 

2 

1 

213 

Vermont Wool Dealer. 

5 

3 

151 

Wanted a Husband. 

2 

1 

5 

When Woman Weep. 

3 

2 

56 

Wooing Under Difficulties. 

4 

3 

70 

Which will he Marry. 

2 

8 

135 

Widower’s Trials. 

5 

4 

147 

Waking Him Up. 

1 

2 

155 

Why they Joined the Re¬ 
beccas. 

0 

4 





NO M P 

111 Yankee Duelist. 2 2 

157 Ya ikee Peddler. 7 3 

ETHIOPIAN FARCES. 

204 Academy of Stars. 0 0 

15 An Unhappy Pair... 1 1 

172 Black Shoemaker.4 2 

98 Black Statue. 3 2 

214 Chops. 3 0 

145 Cuff’s Luck. 2 1 

190 Crimps Trip.5 0 

27 Fetter Lane to Gravesend. 2 0 

153 Haunted House. 2 0 

24 Handy Andy. 2 C 

77 Joe’s Vis t.2 1 

88 M schievous Nigger. 4 2 

128 Musical Darkey. 2 0 

99 No Cure No Pay. 3 1 

01 Not as Deaf as He Seems. 2 0 

150 OldPouipey. 1 1 

109 Other People’s Children. 3 2 

134 Pomp’s Pranks. 2 0 

177 Quarrelsome Servants. 3 0 

9b Rooms, to Let.2 1 

107 School.5 0 

133 Seeing Bosting.3 0 

179 Sham Doctor. 3 3 

94 16,000 Years Ago.;.3 0 

25 Sport with a Sportsman. 2 0 

92 Stage Struck Darkey.2 1 

10 Stocks Up, Stocks Down. 2 0 

64 That Boy Sam. 3 1 

122 The Select School. 5 0 

118 The Popcorn Man. 3 1 

6 The Studio. f. . 3 0 

108 Those Awful Boys. 5 0 

4 Twain’s Dodging.....3 1 

197 Tricks. 6 2 

198 Uncle Jeff.5 2 

176 U. S. Mail.2 2 

216 Vice Versa.4 0 

206 Villkens and Dinah. 4 1 

210 Virginia Mummy. 6 1 

203 Who Stole the Chickens.2 0 

205 William Tell. 4 0 

156 Wig-Maker and His Servants 3 0 

GUIDE BOOKS. 

17 Hints on Elocution....... 

130 Hints to Amateurs. 

CANTATA. 

.215 On to Victory (with chorus) 

25 cents. 3 7 


OTHER POPULAR PLAYS 
WILL BE RAPIDLY ADDED 


TO THIS LIST. 











































































































































PLAYS RECENTLY PU 

■ ■ - 0<^»0 - - — 

PE ICE 15 CENTS ! 


library of congress 



a f7M “7 Affll 158 8 


ADDRESS, 

A. D, AMES, Puli., Clyde, Ohio. 

200. Uncle Tom’s Cabin. A domestic drama from Mrs. Stowe’s cele¬ 
brated novel, by <leo. L. Aiken, 15 males, 7 females. This pay needs no descrip¬ 
tion, as it is too well known. Costumes modern. Time 2H to 3 hours. 

201. Ticket-of-Leave Man. A drama in 4 acts, by Tom Taylor, 9 males, 
3 females. An immensely popular play, and one which will always be presented. 
Scene is laid in London. Costumes modern. Time 3 hours. 


202. The Drunkard; or, The Fallen Saved. A temperance Play, in 
5 act s, by W. H. Smith, 13 males, 5 females. This is one of the most popular tem¬ 
perance plays published, and is very often produced. Costumes modern. Time 3 
hours. 

203. Who Stole the Chickens. A n Ethiopian sketch in 1 scene, by 
A. J. Leavitt and H. W. Eagan. A good negro farce. Time 15 minutes. 

204. The Academy of Stars. An ethiopian sketch in 1 act, by A. J. Lea¬ 
vitt and H. W. Eagan, 6 males. More can be used if required. Roars of laughter in 
it. Time 20 minutes. 


205. William Tell. An ethiopian interlude, in 1 scene, 4 males. A very 
funny burlesque rehearsal on the play of William Tell. Time 20 minutes. 

206. Vilikens and Dinah. A negro farce in one scene, by Charles White,, 
4 males 1 female. Characters all good. Time 25 minutes. * 

207. The Heroic Dutchman of Seventy-Six. A comedy in 5 acts* 

by V. R. Grinnell, 8 males and 3 females. The scene one of the New England States 
—time, 1770. This is a capital play—every character being good. The Dutchman isj 
very, very laughable, and cannot fail to “bring down the house” every time. A 
negro character alsojs very funny. It has beside these, old man, villian, two juvel 
niles, and two utility. The ladies are leading, juvenile and Irish comedy. Costumes! 
of the period named. Time of performance. 2 hours. 

208. My Precious Betsey. A farce in 1 act, by John Madison Morton, 4j 
males, 4 females._ A capital farce which goes well—every part funny. Costumes mod¬ 
ern—time in playing 55 minutes. Drawing-room scene, easily arranged. 

209. The Goose with the Golden Eggs. A farce in 1 act, by Augustus) 

Mahew and Sutherland Edwards—5 males, 3females. Time in playing 45 minutes— 
interior scene—costumes modern. Not a dull speech in the farce, but full of contin-? 
ual mirth and fun. Can be produced by amateurs, who will find it well suited to their 
av ants. 

210. The Virginny Mummy. A farce in one act, by Charles White, 6 
males 1 female. Costumes modern—appropriate for the characters. Scene a plain, 
room. Characters all good. Time about 30 minutes. 

211. A Midnight Mistake. A melo drama in 4 acts, by A. J. Munson, 0 
males 2 females. It has a first class Negro character, as well as leading, heavy. 
Juvenile, and abounds in startling-situations etc. Costumes modern—Place, the 
United States—Time of performance V/> hours. 

212 My Turn Next. A f arce in one act, by Thomas J. Williams. All of 
this Authors’ plays are good, and this one has 4 males 3 females. Costumes modern. 
Scenery easily arranged. Time 45 minutes. 


NEW TEMPERANCE 


CANTATA FOR THE LITTLE ONES! 


ON TO VICTORY. 


This Cantata supplies a want long felt. Nearly all published are either too long or 
from the difficult music, or complex stage business quite beyond the reach of the gen¬ 
eral juvenile companies. This one was written by Ida M. Buxton, especially to ob¬ 
viate all these difficulties, and at once give to those desiring, a taking and effective 
piece. 

It is designed for Juvenile Temples, Sabbath Schools, etc., and requires only a 
platform, no scenery being necessary for its production. 

The words are all set to old airs, familiar to every one. The stage directions are 
plainly given, and no difficulty will be experienced in preparing it for public presen¬ 
tation. 

PRICE 25 CENTS PER COPY. 





























